


burning butterflies

by blackkat



Series: Cracky KisaObi AUs [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, aka WOW it would suck so hard to be an empath in the Naruto universe, mentions of a non-consensual mental bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 19:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: The world is too big and too cold and too raw, and Obito just wants it all tostop.





	burning butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: KisaObi sentinel & guide AU? Either before or after kannabi bridge; either could be interesting.

The world is too big and too cold and too raw, and Obito just wants it all to _stop._

The forest around him was the scene of a battle, once; Obito walks through the shadows cast by the massive trees, fingers trailing over the trunks, and he can feel the echoes back through the weeks and months, the reverberation of pain and screams and grief and bloody victory that left there impressions here. Dark things, heady things, _loud_ things, and they ring inside his skull like they’re never going to fade. 

Madara is dead, and Zetsu is elsewhere, and Obito doesn’t know what he wants to do. Doesn’t know where he wants to go other than _away,_ the empty ache of Rin’s absence like a hole carved into his lungs. He can’t draw a full breath, not when she isn’t there to draw a breath as well. Rin, his _Sentinel,_ is dead, and Obito was too late to save her. 

The laugh that bubbles from his throat is as jagged as broken glass. Too late yet again, _always_ too late, and he’s never learned no matter how many times the universe has tried to teach him. 

There’s a dark stain spread across the roots of a gnarled oak, and Obito crouches down, running his fingers over it. Blood, dry and old, but—

A Sentinel died here. Obito can feel the imprint of her thoughts, the last, desperate attempt to save a Guide behind her, and his hand trembles.

Quickly, he clenches it into a fist, takes a breath and squeezes his eye shut, trying not to think. But the image that rises is all too clear, unfaded by the months in between then and now: Rin, impaled on Kakashi’s hand, on _Obito’s_ hand, with wide, pained eyes and blood dripping from her lips. 

Obito had _felt_ it. Had felt her die, that sharp echo that crashed down the bond. Every inch of that last breath sliding out of her, every sharp bit of shock as she fell—Obito felt it with her. It was only a partial bond, what they had, established because she was the only Sentinel on a team full of Guides and neither he nor Kakashi was all that skilled at Guiding, but—

In the wake of her death, it didn’t seem to matter. 

Madara’s death is in his head, too. Obito doesn’t want it, never tried to form anything with the old Sentinel, but he woke up in the cave with that bond in his head, tethering him to Madara, and losing that now is gutting, bewildering. He feels like he’s going to fall to pieces, like his head is an empty vessel for every bit of pain and suffering in the world to fill, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive it. 

He has to. He has to make a good world where people like Rin, sweet and kind and strong, don’t have to die. _Promised,_ even if that promise was made to her corpse under a bloody moon. Swore it, and Obito isn’t worth much but he always keeps his promises. 

At the very edge of his senses, life slides past death, and _blooms._

Obito stills, startled. This place is halfway to nowhere, an old battlefield and little else. People out here is strange, nothing he was prepared for, and he frowns even as the pull of Kamui rises. Steps, steps again, and the warp falls away to leave him in a dark place. The trees loom like they have teeth, and the ground if boggy, wet beneath his sandals. Obito takes one more step into the darkness and—

Freezes, breath knotted all up in his throat. He feels people, a handful of them, and then—

_Sentinel,_ he thinks, and it curls like desperation in his chest. A Sentinel, unbonded, with a weight to his presence that Obito hasn’t felt outside of Kushina before. He drags in a breath that shakes in his chest, and somewhere on the edge of his senses voices come to an abrupt halt. 

“Kisame?” a voice asks, careful, and there’s a long, long moment of silence. 

“Go find a place to camp,” a second voice says, low. The Sentinel, and Obito closes his eye. Shouldn’t be so effected—it’s a weakness, and he doesn’t need a Sentinel, that’s what Madara told him. That’s why Madara took over his bond, and kept him in line, but—

But. Gods, Obito _wants_ that connection. Wants that little bit of grounding that will make the press of darkness easier to bear. There are so many terrible things in their world, and Obito can feel _all_ of them when he doesn’t have a bond to shut them out. 

It’s stupid. It’s a betrayal of what Madara taught him, but even as footsteps approach, Obito doesn’t move. 

The boy who pushes through the draping branches is Obito’s age, or maybe a little older. A Kiri nin, and something in Obito bristles at that, bays for blood like the blood the Kiri nin spilled when they hunted Rin down, but it’s subsumed by the sudden, overwhelming press of a Sentinel’s mind right up against his own. Dark, cool, like deep water, and Obito lets it wrap around him and breathes it in. His body trembles, the sudden lack of pressing death and pain something close to euphoria, and when he raises his head there are bright, luminous eyes watching him carefully. 

“This is a strange place for a Guide on their own,” the boy says, taking another half-step forward, like it’s an instinctive, unthinking thing. 

Obito hesitates, but the absence of the suffering that’s been boring into his skull for hours makes it easy to say, “I thought being away from living people would help.”

The boy’s mouth curls, something like a smile except it’s full of sharp teeth. “Did it?”

“My Sentinel died,” Obito says, and isn’t sure why he does. “Nothing helps.”

His expression twists, grief and sympathy, and he takes another step, holing out a hand to Obito. “You’re a strong Guide,” he says, low, almost intent. There’s something like surprise on his face. “Most Guides can’t be around me.”

Obito’s laugh cracks in his throat. “I like it,” he says, and it’s a dare. “You cover up all everything I don’t want to feel.”

Another step, and the boy is almost close enough to touch. “I like it, too,” he says, and chuckles, low and soft. “You feel like holding a sword.”

Obito doesn’t know what that means, exactly, but it’s clear the other boy means it as something good. He watches, unmoving, as the Sentinel reaches out, but when cool fingers curl around his wrist he can’t fight a shiver. Like stepping into cold water, an icy shock that clears his mind as he’s swallowed by heavy chakra, and he breathes out, breathes in, looks up. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, and it’s pathetic, weak. Madara would have punished him for saying something like that. 

The Sentinel doesn’t. His expression softens, and he tightens his grip just slightly. “I’m Kisame,” he says, and hesitates. Looks Obito over once, carefully, and says, “We’re on the way back to Kiri. Do you want to come with me?”

Obito wants to say no, because Kiri nin drove Rin to her death. Wants to refuse, because Kushina’s pregnancy is almost over and soon he’ll be able to put Madara’s plan into action. But—

With Kisame beside him, all he feels is deep water, faint currents. There’s no overwhelming, punishing press from the rest of the world. 

“Yes,” he whispers, and wants to hate himself for it, but he’s just so _tired._

Kisame chuckles, closing the last few inches between them, and lifts an arm to wrap around Obito. Gladly, Obito moves with it, slumping against his chest and burying his face in the front of his uniform to breathe in the salt-water and sea-air scent of him. There’s a long, long moment of silence, and then, with a breath, Kisame wraps both arms around him tightly. 

“You’ll be okay,” he says, soothing. 

It’s stupid, _blind,_ but—

Obito finds he doesn’t entirely disbelieve him. 


End file.
